


Oh Brother, How I Missed You So

by StupidGenius



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, I try and fix Luther's shitty decisions basically, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Major Character Undeath, Sibling Bonding, and then, and try and make him a better brother, i guess?????, kind of, so you can imagine what this is about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 13:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: “Don’t do this.” Luther begs. “Don’t do this.”He can’t let another brother die on his watch. He’s supposed to be number One. He’s supposed to be a good leader, a protector. He’ll admit he’s not the best at it, sometimes, but it’s not his fault Klaus left. Right? There’s nothing he could have done, back then.Is there?---The scene at the rave goes a bit differently.





	Oh Brother, How I Missed You So

**Author's Note:**

> AU in Which Ben is right, and Luther is a better brother. Also, Diego is not arrested because they had no fucking _evidence_ and he never should have been in the first place. They would have at least brought him in for questioning first, right??? His prints weren’t even at the scene! I am mad! Everything that happened w the police after Patch upsets me lol. I don't think Diego would've even been a suspect tbh. 
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy this Klaus angst!

Through the haze of drugs and alcohol and the tightly packed, neon bodies, Luther sees Klaus fall.

He’s a pop of glowing color against a group of men in all black, and for a moment. Luther does nothing. Klaus is always clumsy, and he’ll probably get right back up. Plus, Luther’s high, and drunk, and he’s having a good time dancing with this nameless woman in furry clothes. He laughs when she rubs against him, but then what he really saw finally filters through his brain, and he pauses.

Klaus did not fall.

He was _thrown_.

He was thrown, and he’s not get getting up. Luther pushes the girl away with a frown, and she gives him an upset, disbelieving look, before going over to the guy who did the throwing. Luther can’t see Klaus’ face, but he sees his legs, wrapped in those ridiculous leather pants, not moving.

“Klaus?” He yells, the music too loud.

He pushes past the brightly colored people near the platform, and looks down at his brother. His brother, who isn’t moving. He’s splayed out of floor, body twisted strangely, so his hips are on their side, but his back is on the floor, head tilted up and eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling. There’s something dark pooling under his head, and the people around him give him a wide birth.

Luther drops to his knees beside him, feeling much more sober than he did a few moments ago.

“Klaus?” He calls, shaking him.

Klaus doesn’t move.

He doesn’t _breathe_.

“Klaus!” He shakes him again, harder, and Klaus’ hips finally right themselves, and his arms slides off his side and drops limply to the ground. “No no _no_.” he breathes, terrified.

He sorts through his foggy memories, to the first aid classes father taught them all.

He checks if Klaus is breathing first, lays one hand over his brother’s chest, and the other hovers over his mouth. He doesn’t feel anything, and his panic intensifies. He presses his finger to Klaus’ jugular, and feels nothing. His bends over as best as he can and lays his head on his chest, praying to hear soft beating underneath. Any sign that there’s a living person under him.

He can’t hear anything.

He hopes it’s the music that preventing him from hearing anything (it isn’t) and tries chest compressions. Hard, but not too hard – he’d never hear the end of it if he cracked one of his ribs and Klaus hates hospitals.

“Come on, come on.” He breathes.

Nothing.

He forces breaths into Klaus’ mouth and tries again. His brother’s eyes are open, dull and lifeless, and he’s not moving.

“Should we call 911?’ someone nearby says.

“Don’t do this.” Luther begs. “Don’t do this.”

He can’t let another brother die on his watch. He’s supposed to be number One. He’s supposed to be a good leader, a protector. He’ll admit he’s not the best at it, sometimes, but it’s not his fault Klaus left. Right? There’s nothing he could have done, back then.

Is there?

“Klaus, come on!” He shouts, pressing more forcefully.

This time, he does hear something crack. He stops, scared. Klaus doesn’t wake up to yell at him for possibly breaking a rib. He just. Lays there.

Luther knows that you’re not supposed to move someone with a head injury. But he has to. He cradles his brother against his chest and stands on wobbly legs, and warm blood spreads onto his arm where Klaus’ head lays. He goes outside, away from people, and the cooler air helps him see straighter. He hurries to the car and lays his brother gently down across the backseat, closing his eyes.

“It’ll be okay. Grace will know what to do.” He whispers.

Won’t she?

The road is blurry, but Luther manages, tires squealing as he brakes quickly. He see’s Diego’s car parked outside.

“Grace! Diego!” he shouts, pulling Klaus out of the back. He’s still not breathing, and his body – no, no _he_ – is cooler that it had been when Luther carried him out of the rave. He rushes up the steps and Klaus’ head lolls to side, neck bent at an awkward angle. He shoulders the door open.

“Grace! Pogo! I need help!” His voice cracks when he shouts, and he sees Diego and Allison jog down the stairs, grace close behind them.

“What’s going – oh my god.” Allison pauses at the end of the stairs, eyes wide, hands flying to her mouth. Diego pales, eyes trained on Klaus’ limp form. Pogo comes out of the kitchen and stops short.

“He’s not breathing.” Luther gets out.

“Bring him to the infirmary.” Grave instructs, perpetual smile gone from her face. He follows her to the back of the house and lays Klaus down on the same metal table he’d woken up on so many years ago. Grace presses her fingers to the same spot Luther had at the rave, and frowns.

“No pulse.” She announces.

Luther’s breath catches, heart pounding.

No, no no _no_.

“Wh-what h-h-ha-happ-pened?” Diego stutters, eyes wide.

“Luther!” Allison’s crying. The tears fall down her cheeks quickly, small spot of grey on her blouse.

“We – we were at a rave.” He starts.  Grace – Mom has two paddles in her hands, charging them up, and Pogo rubs something on Klaus’ still chest. “I was stupid, I – I wanted to get high, after finding out – Klaus followed me to try and stop me. And he – he –”

“Clear.” Grace says, calmly.

He isn’t expecting the punch he gets, but he doesn’t care.

“Th-this is _y-your fault_.” Diego growls, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “You n-n-never sh-should ha-ave gone out in the f-f-first place!”

“I know.” Luther whispers.

Klaus’ body jerks on the table after the paddles press to his chest, and the monitor lets out a long, continues beat.

His brother is dead.

“Again.” Luther croaks. Pogo gives him a sad look, but at his nod, Grace charges up the paddles and presses them to Klaus’ chest again. He jerks again, head turning to face them, and the monitor continues on.

“What’s going on?” Five’s voice makes them all turn. He’s shirtless, a big white bandage on his side, spots of blood seeping through. He leans heavily again the doorframe, eyes tired and brows drawing together. Allison lets out a choked sob, and turns away from him. Five’s jaw clenches, and he walks past her, trying to get a look at who’s on the table.

“y-you should be r-r-resting.” Diego stutters.

“What’s happening?’ Five asks, stubborn.

He pushes past Diego, and they let him.

Luther cant see his face, but eh sees how tense Five gets. His hands curl into fists at his sides as Grace tries again, a small frown on her face, and once again Klaus’ body moves.

“No.” Five says quietly.

“I’m…I’m sorry, children.” Pogo says solemnly.

Luther feels cold.

“He’s gone.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Klaus is, understandably, quite pissed when the towel is removed from his face and he sees his ‘father’ standing before, and not his dead boyfriend.

“I expected my son who can conjure the dead to have brought me forth days ago.” Reggie says, still wearing that _fucking_ monocle.

“Oh. Yeah, well, you see…” Klaus closes his eyes. “It’s complicated. You know, I tired, I did, but –” Reginal lathers shaving cream over his open mouth before he can continue, and Klaus sputters.

“You were poisoning yourself.” He interrupts.

 _‘What’s happening?’_ someone ask, faintly, far away. It’s not dear old dad’s voice, and it’s not God’s either.

“What did you expect? You’d just died, I was _beside myself_ with grief.” Klaus mumbles.

Right. As if he’d grieve this asshole.

“Don’t you dare try to use me as an excuse for your weakness. We both know that simply isn’t true.”

 _‘I’m sorry, children. He’s gone.’_ Wait, is that…pogo?

“Oh yeah, you had nothing to do with it, huh? Locking me in a mausoleum with corpses until I was 13? No, you’re right, it’s irrelevant.” Reginal raises the blade and Klaus leans back. “Ah – ah – ah, careful, _dad_.”

“Don’t worry. You’re already dead.” He reminds him. Klaus stares at him numbly.

“oh.” ‘ _No_!’ “Well, that’s a relief.”

Klaus has dreamed of dying so many times. He’s sick of the ghosts. Sick of the drugs, even if he likes how he feels when he’s on them. He’s just – so sick and tired of everything. Of trying to live without Dave. Of no one ever taking him seriously. Maybe, after this…he can finally find Dave.

‘ _Do-don’t do this to u-us, you b-bastard!_ ’ someone shouts, but it’s muffled.

“You children like to blame everything on me.”

“Yeah, well. You were a sadistic prick. Not to mention, the world’s worst father.”

‘ _Luther, Diego, stop!_ ’

“I just wanted you all to live up to your potential. You especially.” His father shakes his head. “You’re my greatest disappointment, number Four.”

“Yeah, whatever. Nothing I haven’t heard before. Can you hear that?” he asks.

“You’ve only scratched the surface of what you are capable of. If only you’d _focus_.” Reginald ignores him, continuing to scrape the blade over his cheeks. “No, instead, you pump yourself full of poison because you’re afraid. Afraid of what? The _dark_?”

_‘You’re hurting each other!’_

_‘Children, that’s enough!’_

_‘This is HIS FAULT!’_

He can hear them clearer now, Allison and Pogo and Diego. If Klaus remembers correctly, he was at a rave – what are they all doing here?

“I’d suggest you get down off your high horse there, dear _papa_.” Klaus snaps. “I mean, look at your precious number One – he found all his letter unopened. He knows you sent him up to the moon for _nothing_. Can you just answer my damn question?”

Reginald pauses, sighing.

“Your siblings tried to bring you back, and failed. Though, for the life of me, I can’t imagine why they’d want to, when you have done nothing but disappoint us all. Now, about the letters, I realize that was foolish of me. I should have burned them all as soon as I received them.”

“Wow.” Klaus laughs humorlessly. “That’s your take away? I’m not surprised.” Reginal turns his face harshly to the other side. “Hey!”

_‘He told you not to go and you went anyway, and now he’s DEAD.’_

_‘I’m so sorry, Klaus.’_

“Not an ideal solution, I confess.” Reggie admits. “But, I knew that the world would soon need him, need _all_ of you, and I had to do what was necessary.” He pauses. “Is he okay?”

_‘Please…don’t leave me again.’_

“What do you care?” Klaus asks darkly. The world is fading around the edges.

“Everything I did – everything I put you through, it was to prepare you, all of you, for something bigger than yourselves. You never understood that.”

“We were –” his voice cracks, and he grabs his father’s wrist before he can keep shaving his face. “We were just kids. _Little kids_. And you treated us like soldiers.”

“You ever never just kids.” Reginald says harshly. “You were meant to save the world.”

_‘Klaus!’_

“Wait, so – you knew all about this? About the apocalypse?” Klaus questions. It wouldn’t actually surprise him if he did, and just never told anyone. Reginal Hargreeves is not a good man, no matter what Pogo does to try and convince them all otherwise. He just _thinks_ he is.

“I knew I had to bring you all back together, one way or another. The fate of the world depended on it.” He’s talking like he actually did something to bring them together, which is –

Oh.

 _Oh_.

He finds himself crying, despite his extreme hatred for this guy. Something pounds against his chest, hard enough to knock the breath out of him, and at first, he thinks it’s just the realization that Reginald _killed himself_.

“Listen to me, number Four.” Reggie points the blade in his direction. “What I’m about to say is of great importance…” He fades to nothing before he can actually say anything useful, and suddenly Klaus’ head aches.

_‘He wouldn’t want you two to kill each other!’_

_“how do you know what he would want, huh? None of you gave a_ shit about him!’

‘That’s not true!’

“No, no, no – please.”  He begs the empty space before him to let him stay. To find Dave. To be at _peace_. “I – I can’t. I can’t go back. I can’t go back!” he feels a tug in his chest, and his body hurts. “No! Wait!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Dave!” He shouts, and lurches forward with a gasp, immediately crying out in pain, his head throbbing and something like a hot poker digging into his side. Everything is blurry, and there are people all around him, and annoying, incessant beeping coming from somewhere.

“Holy shit.” Someone breathes.

“Klaus!” That’s –

“Diego?” he groans, and someone pushes him back down onto cold metal. Mom’s face swims into view, smiling and cheerful.

He’s back home?

“You were – we thought…” Allison whispers. He blinks a few times, taking stock.

Everyone’s here, minus Vanya. Everyone’s eyes are red rimmed, and Allison’s face is shiny with tears. Luther’s got a busted lip, and Diego has blood dripping down his nose. Little Five looks like he’s seen a ghost (ha!). Ben is standing on the other side, next to mom, his hands gripping his hair like he usually does when everything is too much.

“Who died?” he croaks.

Diego laughs, and it sounds practically hysterical.

“You did, bro.”

Oh. Right.

He blinks groggily up at the light fixture about him, and realizes that the beeping is the heart monitor. He fumbles around, peeling the monitors off with shaky hands, and tries to sit up. Black spots dance in his vision, and Luther and Diego are both rushing forward, steadying him on either side.

“How…” Five looks lost. Klaus hones in on the bandage at his side and frowns.

“Shit, bud. What happened to you?”

“Irrelevant.” He reaches out and places a hand on Klaus’ arm, like he’s not sure he’s really there. “What happened to you? You flatlined, Klaus, we all saw it.”

“Oh, um.” He squints. “I died.”

“But…how? We just saw you come back.” Allison asks.

“God doesn’t like me.” He giggles, and it hurts, both physically and emotionally. “She was very clear about that, actually. Hey, did you know dad killed himself?”

“Wait, wait.” Diego shakes his head. “Back track. What do you mean – woah, hey, Klaus?” he blinks, and he’s laying back down.

“My side hurts?” He slurs. “Why does my side hurt?”

“I, um. I did CPR. You were…I think I broke something. Sorry.” Luther says haltingly. Klaus pats one beefy shoulder clumsily.

“Didn’t know you cared, big guy.”

“Of course I care.” Luther frowns.

“Right. Awesome. Maybe don’t press so hard next time.”

“There won’t _be_ a next time.” Five says angrily. “You’re not dying again. Got it?”

“Mmm-hmm. Whatever you say, buddy.” He hums.

“No, not – I’m serious, Klaus.” Five insists.

“Klaus, I – we thought you were gone forever.” Luther says. Allison nods, and suddenly she’s grabbing his hand and squeezing.

“Don’t ever scare us like that again.”

Klaus frowns, genuinely confused. “You guys…you didn’t even notice when Hazel and Cha Cha took me. You never care what I have to say. Why would you care if I died?”

“You’re our brother. We’ve…we’re fucked up and sometimes we’re assholes, but we _love_ you.” Diego says. “Of course we would give a shit if you died, Klaus. I don’t drive you around everywhere because I _hate_ you.”

“I came back to save my family.” Five says, firm. “That means you too, dumb ass.”

Luther hangs back, clearly nervous.

“I should have listened to you.” He says quietly. “You told me I didn’t want to be like you, and I didn’t listen. I hurt you. You _died_ because of me.”

Klaus huffs, and then winces when mom pokes at his side, eyes blue as she scans him. “Yeah, well. I forgive you, you…furry, you.” He gets out, breathless.

“I think it’s best we bring Klaus to his room and let him rest for a bit, okay darlings?” Grace decides, motherly and kind. “And you too, Five – you’re both recovering.”

“I’ll help.” Luther helps him sit up, careful of his ribs, and somehow they manage to get him up the stairs and into his room. Ben is at his side the whole way, silent and radiating worry. When Klaus is finally deposited on his bed, he’s tired and achy and wants to sleep forever. His siblings are all gathered around him like they’re afraid he’ll disappear when they aren’t looking, and he doesn’t want to admit that it makes warmth bloom in his chest, but – he thought they didn’t care. They always seemed like they didn’t.

Maybe God doesn’t give a shit about him, but his family does.

“I’ll try my best not to die again any time soon.” He promises, eyelids heavy. “Still have the apocalypse to stop, and all that.”

“Just sleep, for now.” Allison tells him. someone runs a hand through his hair.

“We got you.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **My, writing a different fic from the POV of God, an eleven year old girl with an attitude problem:** This is what five years of Catholic school has been leading up to.
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/). Come cry over Robert Sheehan w me.


End file.
